It seems such a shame to bump Bec off

top billing when you just want the post that:
– discusses the merits of a p.u.b.l.i.c. toilet becoming an emergency washing machine,
– provides such a wondrous vision of your best friends walking through an office you know is very swanky, not to mention powerful (my GOD how hard is it not to come over all Doocey here) in wet pants
– involves sitting on a newspaper, like you sit on your towel coming home from the beach, but more like a puppy being toilet trained
– features sauntering. Anywhere.

to never end.

But I’ve got stuff to share, stuff to offload and well just crapulence in my head that I figure I might as well give to the Internet because sometimes misery (and victory) loves company.
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Sunday is now officially Confessions Day. Mark it in your diaries people.
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Apparently the Commonwealth Games started yesterday. Here! In Australia! Who would have known. Who on earth cares (except those irritating parents who are now mildly psychotic from all those mornings taking kids to swimming training or sitting watching abnormally thin girls do grotesque things to their body on a beam or loser-ish things with a piece of ribbon, a ball and a hoop). Snore.
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Can you tell this sort of sporting showcasing just pisses me off? All that government money that should go to education, health, and programs that actually matter, instead of being siphoned off into hothousing the few freakish people who can swim or run really fast, bend really far or lift really heavy things. Grrrr. That’s what fundraising is meant to be for people. That is what philanthropy is all about. Grrrr again. And again.
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I’m getting to why I’m so burred up about this.
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This week someone sent me a short little email to be helpful. They informed me that some stuff I wrote here had upset someone very dear to my heart (which surprisingly wasn’t my mother. I expect a stroke from the broken heart I will cause her if she ever ever ever works out how to turn a computer on, get onto the Internet, find this, read the posts and work out the archives list and work her way through them. Yesiree that day will be horrendous for so many reasons. God forbid she might even find RSVP.com and find herself a man to mend that broken heart delivered by her selfish cold-hearted daughter). I’ve raised it with that person and we’re good. The extent to which this short, well-intentioned email unraveled me revealed to me how much I’m just holding everything together at the moment on a wing and a prayer, with maybe a piece of fishing wire for extra strength. So call me the MacGyver of Mothers. *****I realised this week how important this space is to me. H.e.r.e. Quite a few of you fully understand and appreciate that there is not much in my world at this point in my life which is my own, where I can just let loose and hang out and b.e. m.e. Where I can swear like a bastard, talk about my rare and unique attributes such as leaking breasts (still, with the New Recruit almost five months old) and albino periods, share the abysmal state of my sex life (which certainly does not in any way reflect on Chef’s prowess in that department), wallow in self-pity, bare my soul and fears, rant and rave, be stupid, be juvenile and be no holes barred (note I just couldn’t be bothered searching back for hyperlinks for those – Blogger – oh when will you let us archive by subject?). Because this space is m.i.n.e. (& Bec’s of course – but only if she wears her soggy taupe pants and reenacts the flapping at every party we ever attend from here until the athritis makes it impossible to get the action right) where I don’t need to set an example, I don’t need to be a parent, a wife, an advocate, or put everyone else’ needs before my own. At this point in my life, this is all I have that is for me – I cherish it and it is about the only thing helping me keep it together. That and red wine. So while being desperately upset I had hurt someone that I just keep bursting into spontaneous tears all friggin’ day long it confirmed that yes, yes, it is necessary.*****Yesterday my day started at 2am. Jasper woke up with what I have affectionately named his kennel cough. So I fed him, put him straight back down, realised I’d had 6 hours sleep because I’d fallen asleep putting Felix to bed so proofed the menus for Chef’s new restaurant and wrote him one of the two media releases I promised them I’d write a week ago. I figured if I was back in bed by 4, then I’d get two more hours sleep and be good for the day. So I went back to bed at 4. Jasper woke up – as in, for the day, it’s morning! kind of wake up – at 4:08am. I fed him, played for a while, put him back in bed and just lay there listening to him, until my brain bled out my ears from exhaustion at 5.45 and I asked Chef to a) wake up and b) get up and tend to said child so he wouldn’t wake the others. Too late, the alarm went at 6 and off I went. To say I felt unstable yesterday was a complete and utter understatement. *****Chef’s new restaurant opens on Tuesday. I went for a visit today. Lots of shiny, new metal things. It is soooo.exciting. If not stressful and nerve-racking. *****I think you can tell I’m running on a bit of adrenalin today (and I got sleep last night). I think I might stop talking now.But finally – my boy, who has been bunny hopping for two weeks now, today almost mastered the art of sitting. He’ll be 5 months on Sunday.